Too Strong
by doroniasobi
Summary: Jirou is strong, and always will be. But even he has times when he needs someone to hold, at least for a little while. — MaruiJirou. /for HaveYouNoMercy/


Too Strong

Jirou is a strong boy. That's what everyone thinks of him. He could twist an ankle without whining or complaining, or break a finger without crying – he would only get away with a few whimpers. Though he probably wouldn't twist an ankle while he was sleeping anyway. And he's never broken a finger before, so it was safe to say that he hadn't cried breaking a finger, but he probably would whimper.

However, he was certainly capable of complaining.

"Aw, Atobe! Why won't you let me play against you?"

"Why do I have to play against this guy? He's so boring!"

"Atobe, let's go out to eat yakiniku! ...Why? Why not? A-To-Be!"

Most of the complaining was directed at Atobe, simply because Jirou dubbed him a 'great opponent' and a worthy captain of the team. A comment in which Atobe would pride in, because of course, he values himself greatly.

But Jirou kept many things to himself as well. It wasn't that he couldn't trust others. It was just that he needed to know the right person to trust. Maybe the person wasn't in Hyotei.

Jirou yawned again and lay down on the bench. Hiyoshi was sitting beside him, rummaging his bag for his tennis racquet. He pulled it out and nudged Jirou with his foot.

"Jirou-senpai," he drawled, "If you don't wake up soon, you're going to be late for practice."

Jirou just yawned yet again, but sat up reluctantly after a while and rubbed at his eyes groggily. Eyes half-lidded, he frowned and looked around. "Okay," he said to Hiyoshi distractedly. He reached for his bag, and dragged it to where he was sitting.

Hiyoshi just looked at his upperclassman strangely, but shrugged and then walked out of the room, tapping his racquet on his shoulder lightly.

Pulling his water bottle, towel, and tennis racquet out, he sighed and stood up, ran a clumsy hand through his messy red hair, and followed Hiyoshi out of the room.

_Here we go again...

* * *

_

Jirou's shoulder hurt. He'd fallen trying to return a ball, and that resulted in a not-very-graceful fall. He winced a little bit and moved a hand over his shoulder to try and reach the pained area. It didn't become very successful, as his limbs prevented him from tending to the wounded spot. Atobe had ordered him not to play with his injury, and Oshitari had told him to leave it alone and let it heal on its own, but Jirou wasn't a very obedient boy, and he hadn't ever been. Gakuto, being the little brat he was, had just laughed at him, pointing and babbling stupid things. But then he had come over to pat Jirou on the back, still laughing endlessly like the kid he was. Hiyoshi had come over to see if he was alright, but then was shooed by Atobe to head on back to finish his practice match with Ootori. And Shishido? It wasn't like he cared much, anyway. Though he did come over to Jirou to tell him to stop being careless.

Even though Shishido and Gakuto weren't being particularly nice, it felt good enough to know that they cared, at least a little bit, about him.

He smiled a little bit, and then lay down on a bench, ready to doze off. Then he shrieked when his injury met the hard, wooden surface of the bench. Lying down would have to wait a little while, he thought, a little disappointed.

Several weeks later, Jirou's grandmother died. She was seventy-three, and a rather nice lady who gave out rice crackers to the kids in the neighbourhood.

That's why, at her funeral, all the children cried because they missed her, as well as her rice crackers.

Jirou's family did not fare well. His siblings were moping and sniffling around, and the atmosphere wasn't very lively. His parents had tried to stay confident in front of the children, but Jirou knew that his mother was crying at night, in his parents' bedroom, with his father comforting her. Jirou was not stupid.

However, Jirou was different. He shed no tears when he heard the news. While tears covered everyone else's faces at the funeral, his was clean.

He didn't hate his grandmother. He didn't even dislike her, at all. He had loved her friendliness yet serious nature. But for some strange reason, he found it difficult to let tears slide down his cheeks, as if it was a sign of giving up. And he never gave up, not even in tennis.

His teammates had heard as well, and thought he'd be upset about the whole situation. In fact, they were quite surprised when Jirou showed up for school the next day and acted like everything was the same, as if nothing had happened.

* * *

"Jirou-senpai."

Jirou looked up from his seat. Hiyoshi was in his classroom, standing there, with some papers in his hand, frowning. The older boy smiled, as brightly as he could, and then asked, "Hiyoshi! What are you doing in here?"

"You've been sitting in here for an hour, senpai."

Jirou's grin dropped just a little bit. "Hm? What did you say?"

"Senpai," Hiyoshi ignored Jirou's previous statement, continuing to speak. "Your grandmother has died. It's been two days. Are you feeling alright?"

"It's nice to know you worry about me, Hiyoshi," Jirou started, after a while. "But I'm fine, really."

"Marui-san told me that you missed all his calls and texts. He's been freaking out."

Jirou froze, and his smile fell off his face.

Of course.

Marui.

Jirou laughed a little at the mention of his boyfriend. "So that's why my phone's been buzzing and ringing on me. I'll give him a call later, or meet up with him soon."

What was he babbling? Meet up with him later? Forget later. He needed to see him now.

Jirou stood up quickly and pushed his chair in. "I have to go now, Hiyoshi. Thanks for telling me." He smiled quickly at the younger boy, picked his bag up, and walked out of the room.

Hiyoshi sighed. Well, Marui would have to give him his twenty bucks now.

* * *

"Hey!" Marui waved wildly, as he saw Jirou squeezing through the doors of the train station. He frowned when he saw the other's face, anxious and almost out of control. "What's – _oof_!"

Jirou had barrelled himself into Marui's waiting embrace. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he was waiting for something to happen. His hands were clenched, grabbing onto Marui's shirt as if he'd be pulled away if he let go.

Marui, still a little startled, since Jirou had never acted like this before, held the boy a little tighter. Deciding they should go somewhere else, to have their privacy, Marui stood there, holding Jirou for another few minutes.

Jirou was trembling, as Marui say next to him, a worried frown on his face. Jirou was swaying lightly back and forth, and his face was pale. Marui thought he might be sick or something, so he put a hand to his boyfriend's forehead. Nothing.

They were at Marui's house, since his siblings were out for a while, and his parents were on a business trip. So they had the house to themselves for the moment.

The two of them sat there in silence for a while, Marui wondering what to do and Jirou just shaking.

"Marui-kun..." Jirou finally decided to whisper. He'd settled on calling Marui 'Marui-kun' and not 'Bunta' because he felt 'Marui-kun' was easier on his tongue, as he'd been calling him 'Marui-kun' for a long time.

Marui leaned Jirou's head on his shoulder and put an arm around him. "I heard," he whispered back, rubbing the other's arm to soothe him.

Jirou nodded against Marui's shoulder. Then he bit his lip and asked hesitantly, "Can I...?"

The pink-head closed his eyes and brought Jirou into a tight embrace, nodding. Jirou wrapped both arms around his boyfriend and shook against Marui. And Marui held him, stroking his hair gently and murmuring soothing words to him. Jirou was as fragile as anyone else, he knew.

The trembling stopped gradually, and Jirou relaxed. Marui smiled. "Sometimes, you're too strong for you own good," he remarked softly. "You can always cry."

A muffling voice came from the redhead. "I didn't cry," he said, almost proudly. Then he lifted his head, eyes glittering with unshed tears, smiling anyway.

Marui ruffled the boy's hair, smiling. "You didn't cry. But you're capable of doing it." Then he pressed a quick kiss to Jirou's cheek.

Not a single tear fell off Jirou's face.

* * *

_Owari_

_2009.06.14_


End file.
